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No Need to Push
Topic Started: Jun 1 2012, 05:22 PM (83 Views)
James Stall
Member Avatar
i'm a little bitch
[ *  *  *  * ]
James Stall sits in the back of a limousine and admittedly odd form of transportation for someone who has just been fined two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. James is dressed in a fine Armani suit a far cry from his usual combinations of jeans, t-shirt and beat up leather jacket. In fact if anything the mood in the limousine is one of celebration as James Stall sips on a glass of champagne and happily watches the latest New Era promos on his Ipad while eating some cinnamon sticks. Two other men are in the limo with James, a large muscular man who looks like he could easily be a member of the I.R.S, and a camera man who has been independently contracted by James Stall and has been rolling for the last fifteen minutes despite the fact that James has said since then, but James told him to roll, and you don’t say no to James Stall. And James is about to say some things now. In fact, he’s going to say a lot of things. If you have to go to the bathroom pause and do so now then come back and settle in with a popcorn and soda.

As James intently stares at his Ipad the smile on his face begins to fade and agitation builds. As the promo he is watching winds down he begins to play sections of it over and over again with disbelief. He shakes his head and then turns to look at the camera.

“Friends, I have been forgotten by someone, and, before I address the two men I’m set to face for the North American Championship, I feel the need to give this individual a stern talking to.”

James turns his Ipad around to reveal the image of a pissed off Disturbed. He and James share the same expression.

“Disturbed, let’s chat. Do you know what you are? You’re a whiner. I don’t like whiners. Do you want to know who was ignored when it came to making the World title match who’s far more qualified than you are? Me. Since being here I’ve won two North American North American Championships. I’ve flown all over the world for this company. Week in and week out I have been a staple of New Era, a household name. Do you know who has made both competitors in the World Heavyweight Title match tap out? I can name two people. One of them has a leaky head. The other one’s me. And not once have I complained about my standing in the company because I’m not a whiner. I’m a taker. I take what I want. I take the opportunities that are given to me, and I win. I have earned everything I have, and I have worked hard for almost a year with the goal of becoming the World Heavyweight Champion.”

James tosses the Ipad aside and holds up his index finger.

“I have had one shot at the title. That was in a battle royal that the entire roster was a part of. Last time I checked that included you as well.”

He taps his chin and raises an eyebrow.

“Conveniently forgot to mention that opportunity you were given didn’t you?”

James folds his hands together and presses his thumbs against his lips. The anger inside of him is rising, but instead of lashing out at his cameraman James decides to focus his energy on ridiculing Disturbed.

“But let’s talk about how you’ve been “pushed aside”. Which one of us was in the six pack challenge for the World Heavyweight Championship at Challenger Series? You were. I wasn’t even given a qualifying match and you made it into the main event, and you blew it. That’s a theme I’d like to explore.”

James looks out the window as he thinks back to Fear Itself, an event wherein he completely humiliated Ross Raines and Disturbed faced a match with a very different outcome.

“Didn’t you go after Troy Turner with the goal of him making you famous? Didn’t work out too well for you did it? You blew that one too, and then Troy Turner demolished Shamaya with a sledgehammer.”

James’ head snaps back toward the camera, and he is chagrined.

“Shit. People want to complain about me attacking Nikki Blaine, an actual wrestler whose job comes with the expectation of bodily harm? Shamaya takes more shots to the face than Lana Wu, and nobody says a word.”

He nods and presses an index finger against his lips as he recollects his thoughts.

“But I digress. Before your misguided feud with Turner you were in a number one contenders match for the World title against Matt Starr, Priest, and Hisoka. Couldn’t pull that one off. Then there was the North American Championship match at Vindication that you didn’t win, two of those, actually. And of course there was last year’s London Brawl. To the surprise of no one you were not victorious. Hell, you couldn’t even beat Jake Hammer for the Television title. Who ended Jake Hammer’s career?”

James points both his thumbs toward his chest.

“This guy.”

He is clearly enjoying himself now as he leans back in the limousine with his arms outstretched across the leather seats. He beams a bright white smile.

“The story repeats itself over and over again. Every time there’s the same ending. Big bad Disturbed can’t get it up when it counts.”

James laughs derisively. Seldom has he enjoyed verbally taking a man to task like this. It is an experience that he revels in with wide eyed enthusiasm.

“And I can say that because you don’t intimidate me. I know the truth. You’re all bark and no bite. You’re no monster. You’re a limped dick bitch. Wanna show how tough you are by throwing a director through a door? I choked out an interviewer in my last promo and then assaulted the camera man, and I’ve forgotten how many employees I’ve sent to the hospital, but it’s enough that they felt the need to issue a restraining order against me. Bombtrack kidnaps people and marries children and I get the restraining order. I have set the standard for assaulting New Era employees. That bar is so high you could strap on some stilts and jump around in moon shoes and you still wouldn’t come close to touching it.”

James stops smiling and gives a nod toward the camera with his lips pouted.

“My point is you have been given every opportunity under the sun to succeed in this company and you have failed miserably. The fact that you still think you can complain justifies your namesake. And, while we’re at it, let’s briefly talk about another way you’re a hypocrite. I didn’t see you anywhere near the Bloodlust card, Mr. Iron Horse. Meanwhile, I was the main event.”

He seems to be wrapping up, but then another point has popped into his head, a final barb for the man who made the mistake of not mentioning James Stall in his promo.

“Oh, and I have one last statistic for you, thirty-one. That is the number of matches you have lost. You have lost sixty percent of your matches. Who the fuck losers sixty percent of their matches and still claims they should be World Champion but you and Randy Altzer? Maybe you didn’t forget me. Maybe you purposefully didn’t mention me because you know that categorically I am better than you, and that I, in every way, far more deserving of the World Heavyweight Championship than you are.”

It might seem odd that James knows Disturbed so well that he can pull up all of these specific facts straight from his memory at a moment’s notice, but clearly James Stall is a man who studies his fact sheets.

The limousine comes to a stop, apparently at its destination and James Stall takes the time to give a parting comment to Disturbed before exiting the car.

“I do have to thank you though for mentioning Outkast’s assault on Shamaya. That clear moment of hypocrisy helps to further prove what Jimmy Helmsley and I have been saying about Outkast. I would have missed it because, after all, you are a footnote. I’m going to use this opportunity to segue into talking about more important people now.”

James climbs out of the limousine followed by his well suited associate. James motions for the camera man to follow him because he is not done talking and shoots that move are all the rage.

“Outkast, I am not a good guy. I’m not a bad guy either. That’s your problem. You still need to define everything with labels. I’m beyond all that, and that’s why I’m beyond the likes of you. We are neither truly good nor evil. We just play the roles that our lives demand that we play. Right now I’m the monster. I’m the bully. I do what I want, when I want it, and there’s not a person in the world that can stop me. There are only those who think they can. That’s you and Romeo.”

James leans back into the car and pulls out his trusty hammer. He turns around and is standing in front of the worst place a man who is banned from being within one hundred feet of a New Era employee can be, the New Era offices in New York City. He cracks his neck and continues to talk as he strolls into the building.

“I’m what Romeo needs, the darkness that defines him as the hero. You need me just like I need you too. I’m the young lion set to challenge your rule over the pride. I give you the opportunity to show the world that you can still contend with the next generation and continue your legacy. You are the legend from the past who I will use to define myself as the superstar of the future. Romeo is one of the men whom I will build the future of this company with. Those are the roles we were always meant to play.”

The receptionist at the buildings front desk sees the trouble coming and reaches for the phone, but a quick glare from Stall causes her to freeze in her tracks. She drops the phone and runs crying to the bathroom. James snickers and steps into the elevator. He presses the button to take him to the twenty second floor where Travis Blaine’s office and stands with his sledgehammer head resting in his hands monologuing as “The Girl From Ipanema” plays.

“Now I’m the villain, and six months from now I might be the hero again. Don’t think it’s possible? Want to tell me again how I’ve pissed away my chance at a legacy? How the fans will never cheer for me again? Let me remind you of Linnea Lacroix, Zenna Zdunich’s girlfriend. I fractured her ankle, dislocated her shoulder, and gave her a concussion. Put her out of action for weeks all because Zenna’s psychotic ex-boyfriend paid me to. For months I made my bones by taking contracts to hurt people. You know that first hand. Then I won the North American Title tournament, and just like that I was a fan favorite. After months of knowing me as nothing other than a bad guy who hurts people for a living I was suddenly adored for my gutsy performance. When I defended my title against Zenna Zdunich two weeks later the fans were squarely in my corner. All it takes is one night, one moment, and the fans will turn just like that.”

The ding of the elevator signals their arrival and James steps out onto a busy office floor that has apparently frozen in time. Every eye is trained on James Stall and the only one who makes a sound is James who does not seem to notice the odd occurrence.

“Do you think your precious Nikki will be a darling little girl forever? No. Eventually she’ll break. Eventually something will frustrate her so much and she will rebel, against you and her uncle. She’ll get her turn to play the bad guy. The fans will boo your little princess. And Romeo? His shining armor will be tarnished eventually too. Hell. He’s already shown signs of it. Wanting me to live in his shadow forever? Talking about a fate worse than simply ending my career? That’s a level of arrogance even I won’t touch. I talk about how I want to elevate us all, how I’m going to help us all reach the top and turn our names into legend, and he wants to bury me? Tsk. Tsk.”

A crowd of office workers parts like the Red Sea as Stall marches toward Travis Blaine’s office.

“Of course, you won’t listen to what I have to say. Perhaps my view of the world is too gray for you, too progressive. That’s why we’ll keep saying the same lines. Keep telling me I don’t work hard enough, that I’m not focused. Keep spouting the same tired lies. I know you’ll dismiss what I say. Call me boring. Call me delusional. Fine. My words are unimportant. I’ll let my fists do the talking. And after the Brawl you’ll be calling me the North American Champion, and the number one contender.”

Taking another opportunity to show up Disturbed, James swings the sledgehammer and puts it through the door. With a swift boot the door comes off its hinges, and James lets the door fall at his feet.

Travis Blaine looks up from a stack of papers.

“It was unlocked.”

James steps on the door and into the office.

“Hello, Travis.”

He rests his sledgehammer on Travis’ desk.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t have to hurt anyone to get in here. They all just moved out of my way.”

Travis looks at the sledgehammer and then back at his unwanted guest. He is beginning to take Stall more seriously.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

James plops into one of Travis’ leather office chairs and props his feet on the desk, knocking over a picture of Nikki.

“I’m on layover on my way back from Vegas, you know where I just competed in SCW to help promote your company. I won, by the way. You’re welcome.”

Travis stares at James’ black Italian leather loafers.

“You’re not allowed to be within one hundred feet of a New Era employee. I can have you arrested.”

James sits up, leans forward, and grasps his sledgehammer.

“We can talk about that later. I have a more pressing matter to attend to.”

Travis reaches for the phone on his desk. Stall shakes his head in disappointment.

“Calling security? You know what I’ll do to them. Then I’ll be angry, and just think of what I’ll do to you.”

Travis hesitates with the phone in his hand. He locks eyes with Stall who towers over him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Slowly, he sets the phone down.

“That’s a good boy.”

Travis begins to grind his teeth.

“What do you want?”

James releases his sledgehammer and asks the question that has been on his mind all week.

“Where is she?”

Travis looks straight into James’ eyes. A smile creeps across his face as he knows power, as usual, is in his favor.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

James stands and leans with his palms against Travis’ desk.

“Don’t play games with me. Where’s your niece? People have been rather reluctant about coming forward with information regarding her whereabouts.”

“Can’t help you.”

“Bullshit!”

James slams his fist against Travis’ desk, causing the wood to splinter. He looks at Travis with teeth bared and breathes heavily for a moment before stepping back and calming himself down. He straightens his tie.

“I know she’s home. I just don’t know where home is.”

“Oh, she didn’t bring you home to meet the folks? I guess your relationship didn’t progress as far as you thought it did.”

James crosses his arms.

“Your attempts at humor do not amuse me.”

Travis looks at the phone again and shakes his head. He goes to do what he should have done the moment James made his entrance.

“I hope you’re amused by dicks in your ass cause you’re going to jail.”

Travis reaches for the phone again. James scoffs

“You’re not going to have me arrested.”

Travis goes to dial.

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“I know you Travis.”

Out of curiosity Travis sets the phone back down.

“Oh?”

“You’re the only man who sees things like I do. You know that good and bad are false labels and that in the business we work in morality is a fluid concept. And you know that I am nothing more than an instrument of change, a vessel to carry the next generation of New Era superstars to the next level.”

“I’m not sure I care to listen to pseudo-philosophical bullshit from Jimmy Helmsley’s puppet.”

At this allegation James Stall’s voice roars. It is guttural, animal-like.

“I AM NO MAN’S PUPPET!”

James has heard the rumors around back, but Travis’ upfront confrontation has pushed him over the age. He begins to stomp around the room. His feet crack the door further.

“I am James Stall and I do what I want when I want because it serves my pleasure!”

He thumps his chest and slams his palms against the desk.

“If my goals align with Jimmy Helmsley’s then fine, and if allowing him to believe that he controls me helps me gain what I desire so be it! But rest assured I do what I do because it suits me, not because someone else is pulling my strings.”

He leans across the desk and his face stops inches away from Travis’.

“If on a whim I wanted to hurt you I could leap across this desk and with a flick of my wrist break yours. And it would be because I willed myself to do it. Yes. I could put you in a cobra clutch, crush your windpipe and send you to the hospital like I did to poor Johnny Bloomers, but I won’t. Do you know why?”

Travis rolls his eyes at James’ tantrum.

“Because you’ll spend a couple years in jail and never wrestle again?”

James pulls back.

“No. You and I both know you’d never actually have me arrested. I’m too valuable to you. The simple fact is no one works harder for this company than I do. I’ve made numerous trips to other companies. I’ve dominated in Ascension, and, by the end of July, Jimmy and I will be Warped’s first ever tag team champions. No one brings more new viewers, brings in new revenue, and puts more butts in those seats than I do. I could thrash you around this room, put you in a torture rack and snap your spine like a twig, and you wouldn’t do a damn thing because you know your investment in me is more valuable than your own well-being. I won’t hurt you because I have a healthy respect for authority.”

“Now that’s funny.”

James walks past Travis and looks out the window as he visualizes all of the people that threaten New. He stares straight through his own reflection.

“Diamonds in the Club, Spencer, people like that. They feel the need to humiliate hard working men like you a Jihad, to manhandle men of vision like yourselves. I don’t need to debase myself like that. I’ve earned everything I’ve gotten. I will earn my World Championship by winning the London Brawl and then beating whoever is the champion come Vindication. Everything I receive I receive because I work my ass off for this company. Everything I earn I earn the right way.”

Travis’ voice rises in pitch and anger.

“By hurting innocent new workers?”

James steps back around the desk and waves off Travis’ question.

“They are toys, plaything broken for my amusement. Sometimes they are messages to others. They are always inconsequential.”

He takes a seat back in the leather chair.

“My point is with my fists I could crack your ribs. I could fracture your skull like I fractured Nikki’s. I could shatter your knee cap. And you would take it. But you know I won’t do that because I’m not like the other “bad guys” of New Era. I’m stronger than them. And that’s another reason you need me.”

Once again he props his feet back on the desk.

“Who else can rid you of the plagues that infest New Era? Who can chase Spencer Riggs out of here if he so desired? Who can single handedly end Diamonds in the Club once and for all? Who has what it takes to win the World Championship and restore this company’s honor? Romeo? He can’t carry this company. His shoulders are too narrow. He’s not ready yet; he’s still too heated over this Nikki thing. Let him cool off in my shadow a little longer. Outkast? The old man is the past. He can’t carry this company. His knees would give out. Even Jimmy? He wants Outkast, and besides we both know who’s coming back to take away his attention for the next few months. That leaves me. I’m only one who can put this company on his back and be the face of New Era.”

Travis squints. He knows James Stall is delusional, but he can also see that James’ hand has found its way back to the sledgehammer which is now resting in his lap.

“I’ll humor you. Maybe you’ll win the North American Championship. Maybe you’ll win the London Brawl. You might even go on to become the World Champ and the new face of New Era. But I’ll still never tell you where Nikki is.”

James is taken aback by Travis’ verbal job. He kicks the boss’ desk.

“Damnit Travis!”

Travis leans forward and twists the knife further.

“And I’ll give you five minutes to get the hell out of my office before I call the police and have you thrown in jail for the night.”

James bares his teeth with a grin.

“Well then, you leave me no choice.”

He raises his hand. Travis flinches, and James snaps his fingers.

“Mountebank!”

The door opens and in walks the rather large man from earlier wearing a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt, a red tie, red suspenders, and glasses.

“Mountebank, introduce yourself to Mr. Blaine.”

Mountebank offers his hand which Travis simply stares at.

“Reginald P. Mountebank, Esquire.”

James rubs his hands together and bobbles his head while licking his lips

“Here’s my lawyer.”

Mountebank pulls a piece of paper out of his inner jacket and serves it to Travis Blaine.

“Mr. Stall will be appealing the outrageous fine you’ve levied against him.”

James finds it harder to control his laughter is he watches Travis look at the paper that has been placed in his hand.

“I talked to my friend, Chris Sharp. You know him. He’s the owner of New Wave. Mountebank here is on Chris’ personal legal team. I told Chris you were a friend of my uncle’s. He said I could have Mountebank for as long as I needed, on his dime. Isn’t it wonderful? Mountebank, tell Mr. Blaine the next piece of good news.”

Mountebank slowly pulls another piece of paper out of his jacket and slams it on the desk with all the flourish of a winning poker hand.

“This is an injunction temporarily stopping the restraining order placed on Mr. Stall on the grounds that such an absurd action would in fact stop Mr. Stall from working and therefore infringe on his civil rights.”

James begins to cackle as he realizes how much the power has shifted in his favor. He calms himself long enough to straighten up and take another stab at Travis.

“That injunction’s only a temporary measure. We’ll be making it permanent at our court hearing. When’s that scheduled for Mountebank?”

“Three months from now, sir.”

Travis’ facial muscles sag as he realizes the horrible implications of that statement. James slaps his knees.

“Three months. A lot can happen in three months. I bet I can find Nikki in a week. It’s like I’ve been saying. Outkast can’t stop me. Romeo can’t stop me. You can’t stop me.”

Travis Blaine rises from his seat shaking with anger. The veins in his neck bulge and his face turns red as he points on finger at James Stall. He looks like he might strike Stall down with a bolt of lightning.

“If you hurt her again I swear to God I will have you arrested. I don’t care how valuable you may or may not be I will have you locked away in the deepest darkest whole I can find and let you rot there, and I will have your name stricken from every written record New has. Anyone who so much as thinks your name will find their ass on the unemployment line.”

James waves both of his hands in front of him in mock surrender and makes his best scaredy-cat face.

“Oh, the Benoit. That’s a fate worse than death.”

Travis shoots heat beams from his eyes.

“Don’t push me.”

James rises now and taps Travis on the cheek.

“That’s cute, Trav, but don’t tempt me. I might just have to call your bluff.”

Travis stands there dumbstruck. James, Mountebank, and the cameraman exit Travis’ office. Mountebank looks at James as they stroll through the New Era offices. The place is completely deserted. Not a soul has stuck around to see the outcome between James Stall and Travis Blaine.

“Mr. Stall, if I might enquire. How are you planning on finding Miss Blaine?”

Stall marches forward with a steely gaze locked on the elevator.

“I’ll manage it, Mountebank. It’s just a matter of shaking the tree.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

James presses the elevator button with his sledgehammer head.

“Cut the damn thing down.”

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New Era Record:
29-26-1

New Era Accomplishments:
Record Holder for Longest World Heavyweight Championship Reign (239 Days)
Record Holder for Longest Title Reign (239 Days)
Record Holder for New Era Submission Victories (9)
Record Holder for Main Event Wins (16)
Co-Record Holder for Super Show Wins (11)
x1 Winner of the New Era Secret Santa Tournament
x2 North American Champion
x2 New Era World Heavyweight Champion (Current)
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